Rosebud
by christylee
Summary: COMPLETED! Larry Tudgeman is an unhappy gazillionaire. On his 30th birthday, the memory of a special girl begins to haunt him. If he finds his Rosebud, can he regain all that he has lost? Sweet and somewhat silly MT!
1. Good Morning!

_I'm trying something new: having two stories going at the same time. I wonder if I can do it without my mind becoming boggled! Check out my other story, "Overcome," in the "M" rating section. It's a very different type of story than this one._

_I've been thinking of this one as "Tudge Fluff" but now that I've written the first chapter, I see that it is not going to be "Fluff" at all. Still a lot of fun, I hope, but not fluff._

_I've had this chapter written for a while, but, I wanted to post this now, because it takes place on Tudgeman's birthday, and today is my birthday, so this is my way of saying Happy Birthday to myself!_

_-_

_-_

Larry Tudgeman formed his first corporation for the distribution of his original computer gaming software while he was yet in college. By age 25, he was worth a million dollars. On his 30th birthday, he was officially a gazillionaire, and as lonely and miserable as a man could be.

Sure, he had friends. Last year his birthday celebration at his San Mateo mansion near Silicone Valley had been attended by over two hundred of his "closest friends." Everyone had the time of their lives. Movie mogul George Lucas entertained the crowd with a sneak peak at his latest blockbuster. The National Enquirer buzzed the complex with helicopters all night long. The Donald even flew in for a quick hello.

This year, Tudge was not in the mood for a big celebration. He woke up on his birthday morning, put his hands behind his head, stared at the ceiling and sighed deeply. Tonight he was planning a quiet dinner with his best friends David and Liz. Maybe that little pizza place they used to go to back at the university. If they could get in there without the paparazzi causing too much commotion.

Wherever David and Liz went, the paparazzi always followed, especially since Liz McGuire had won the Best Actress Academy Award last year. Her husband, David Gordon, was this year nominated for Best Director. Like Tudge himself, they were both incredibly successful, but unlike Tudge, they were also incredible happy.

Because they had each other. Tudge had no one.

Well, he did have…

-

Unexpectedly, his wife Kate walked into his bedroom, as always without knocking. She glanced at him with disdain. "Oh…are you up, already?"

Larry sighed. "What are you doing in here? And why did you not knock? I could have been---"

Kate scoffed. "As if!"

"Kate," he reminded. "You were the one who wanted separate bedrooms, and now you don't even respect---"

"I'm looking for my tennis racket," she explained, cutting him off. "Do you know where it is?"

Larry sat up in his huge bed, leaning against his many pillows. "Now how the hell would I know where your tennis racket is? And what do you need it for anyway? I thought you were having a lesson with Ethan this morning."

"I am!"

"Darling," Larry said impatiently. "Ethan is your golf instructor, not your tennis instructor. Do try to keep your story straight."

"This _is_ a golf lesson, dearest," Kate said, equally impatient. "Ethan says it's good to cross-train. He insists that the conditioning of tennis will improve my golf game."

Larry threw his legs over the side of the bed, groaning. He felt so much older than his thirty years. "Really now?" he asked. "And what other activities does Ethan claim he must instruct you in to improve your golf game?"

"Don't be jealous, Lar," Kate said dryly. "It's very unbecoming."

Larry was not even going to respond to that, because they both knew that the idea of him being jealous of anything Kate did with any of her various "instructors" was absolutely ludicrous. However, she so enjoyed twisting the knife into the corpse of their pathetic marriage.

"You know what, Kate? I don't have your tennis racket. Just get out."

"Oh, damn," she said. "I guess Ethan and I will have to go downtown to buy a new one. Well, ta da! Have a nice day, sweetheart!" she called as she left the room.

-

Larry rose from the bed and walked across the plush beige carpet towards the double doors of the bathroom. When he emerged several minutes later, he heard a distinct knock on the door, then a sweet voice calling, "Rise and shine, sleepyhead! Are you decent?"

He smiled and sighed, looking down at his striped pajama pants. "Yes, Mrs. McGuire! I'm always decent. You know that. Come on in."

Jo McGuire bustled into the room, carrying a stack of folded laundry. "Good morning, Larry!" she sang. "And Happy Birthday! How many years is it?"

"Thirty," Larry answered unenthusiastically.

"Oh! The Big Three-Oh!" Jo McGuire grinned, putting down the laundry, opening the blinds, straightening the bed. "And how do you feel about the milestone?"

Larry sat down in the velvet chaise by the patio doors, as he did every morning for his "Good Day Chat" with his housekeeper. He thought for a moment, then said, "Last year was easier."

"Lizzie said the same thing when she reached thirty last March. She said when she hit thirty she instantly began to hear her biological clock ticking. I know she really wants a baby."

Larry smiled and said gently, "And I know you really want a grandchild."

Jo McGuire fluffed the pillows on the bed, then yanked the spread at the corners, forming a perfectly flat surface. "Yes…but…her career is going so well now. It would be a shame if she had to…."

Larry considered the dilemma a moment then offered, "I'm going to see them tonight. If you like, I could talk to David…"

Jo McGuire smiled gratefully at her employer but said, "Oh, Larry! I think I put enough pressure on them, without even meaning to. Thank you for the offer, though." She went to the closet and pulled some clothes off the hangers, laying them on the bed.

"Well, how about Matt? I'm sure he and Melina will give you some beautiful grandchildren," Larry said encouragingly.

Jo laughed. "I'd like to see them tie the knot first! That boy does not seem ready to settle down."

"Well, if anyone can tame him, you know that Melina can."

"Oh, I know," Jo agreed.

"How's his business going, anyway? What is it? Private Investigator?"

"He loves it!" Jo exclaimed. "You know Matt. Always looking for trouble, always able to find it. Here's your blue shirt, your black pants. Every day the same outfit! I don't suppose I could persuade you to think about wearing something a little different for a change?"

Larry shook his head. "I'm too busy to think about clothes. Besides, somebody told me once that I look good in a blue shirt, that it brings out the blue in my eyes."

Mrs. McGuire smiled at him knowingly. "And who said that? A girl?"

Larry nodded. "A very special girl," he revealed wistfully.

"Could it have been…Kate?"

Larry scoffed. "No! The only thing Kate has ever told me I would look good in is Divorce Court."

"Then why don't you do it?" Jo asked. "Sometimes you seem so unhappy, Larry."

"I'll do it someday," he sighed. "I just don't have time for it now."

"But it doesn't need to take any of your time!" Jo insisted. "If you have a good lawyer, she would do it all for you."

"She?"

"You remember your old friend from school? Veruca? I hear she's become an excellent attorney, has her own firm and everything. I could have Lizzie give her a call."

Larry waved a hand. "Someday, perhaps. Right now, I'm not in the mood for Kate's hysterics."

"But I would imagine Kate would also like to have a clean break of it too. Then she could move on to any new man she wants."

"She's already moved on to any new man she wants," Larry said sourly. "She carries on with a half dozen of them at a time, as far as I know. And I let her. I don't care. You know Kate. She likes to have her cake and eat it too. She likes being Mrs. Larry Tudgeman, wife of the celebrated Computer Software King. If I'm the King, that makes her the Queen, and being the Queen is a very comfortable position for Kate to be in."

"You let her take advantage of you. You know that."

"I know that," Larry agreed.

Mrs. McGuire sighed and shook her head. Over these past few years, she had come to love Larry like her own son. "Perhaps someday," she suggested, "if you were properly motivated…"

"What kind of motivation are you talking about?" Larry asked suspiciously.

"Perhaps if there were someone in your life, someone you loved, someone you wanted to be with, as much as she wanted to be with you…" Mrs. McGurie suggested.

Larry laughed derisively. "Who might I find to fit that description?"

"Any woman," Mrs. McGuire said, completely serious. "They all want you."

"Sure, but they only want me for my money," Larry returned, also completely serious. "Where am I going to find someone who loves me for myself? I don't think that option is open to me anymore."

"That option is always open," Mrs. McGuire said, optimistically. "There is always hope, there is always possibility. What about that girl you just spoke of? The one who likes the way your eyes look when you wear a blue shirt?"

Larry sighed wistfully. "That girl is long gone. I don't even know where she is anymore."

Mrs. McGuire picked up the laundry basket in the corner and straightened the hairbrushes on the top of the oakwood dresser. "She's still out there," she prophesized, before leaving the room. "I know she's out there for you somewhere, Larry. I just hope you make the decision to go find her. There's no reason in the world why a rich man can't be as happy as a poor man."


	2. A Day in the Life

_So many of you had questions about the McGuires working for Tudge. I address this issue briefly in Chapter 3, but the immediate answer is that though they may not HAVE to work, they CHOOSE to work, to continue to be active, contributing members of society as they approach their retirement years. And with their backgrounds and interests, I feel the scope of their employment fits them well._

_Others may differ in their opinions, and in some cases it may be a cultural thing, but I do not see housekeeper or groundskeeper as demeaning work---especially if it is done for a "gazzillionaire" (I love that word!) who also happens to be a nice guy and a fair employer. I can think of a lot worse jobs to be in!_

_Why aren't they working for Lizzie, the Academy Award Winning Actress, and her movie director husband David Gordon? That might be a little too close for comfort, also a bit awkward. Bad enough to have to live with your in-laws, but when they are your servants, I think that's just asking for trouble. Lizzie and Gordo need their privacy. Tudge needs the emotional support of mom and dad surrogates he can trust._

_I am getting way too into this!_

_By the way, hope you are enjoying the way I am throwing EVERYBODY into the story. That's the silly part. More to come. _

-

-

Larry sat in the back seat of his Rolls Royce, reviewing Mrs. McGuire's words from earlier in the morning. _There's no reason why a rich man can't be as happy as a poor man._ Was that really true? If he was not happy---and on this, his 30th birthday, he felt keenly aware of how unhappy he really was---did he in fact have anybody to blame but himself?

Larry leaned forward, his chin on the front seat. "Hey, Dig," he said to his chauffer. "Are you happy?"

Digby Sellers grinned as he steered the beautiful automobile off the interstate on to a private road that would take his boss to his high rise office complex in the heart of the city.

"Am I happy?" he repeated. "Well, now, that's a big question, isn't it? What is happiness? What are the components which comprise the emotional state of----?"

"It's a yes or no question," Larry said dryly. "Are you happy?"

"At the moment, yes," Dig answered, simply. "I'm driving the finest automobile known to man, listening to the Berlioz _Symphonie Fantastique_ on a state of the art sound system. I've got a job, a lovely wife, and a nice home on your estate. Two little Digs running around in the yard, helping Mr. McGurie with the grounds. He's added a few more gnomes to the rose garden. Are you aware?"

"Gnomes seem to make Sam McGuire happy," Larry observed.

"Gnomes and Mrs. McGuire," Dig added. "And the occasional Cuban cigar. Which also makes me happy, by the way."

"Remind me to bring back another few boxes next time I'm in Miami," Larry said.

"I won't let you forget," Dig promised.

Larry sat back, feeling the melancholy as he looked at the buildings passing by outside his window. "So what's the secret?" he asked at last. "What is the secret to happiness, Dig? Twenty five words or less. Come on, if anyone can do it, I know you can."

"I heard this once," Dig said instantly, then recited: "Happiness is having something to do…someone to love…and something to hope for."

"Oh, man!" Larry exclaimed. "That is so profound. Who said that?"

"I don't know."

"But it's so true! It's so true…and it's so sad."

"So sad?" Dig questioned. "Why?"

"Because of the three, I've only got one. I've got something to do. In fact, I've got too much to do. But no one to love. And nothing to hope for."

For a moment the conversation ceased. They drove in silence, listening to the bold melody and crashing symbols of Fourth Movement. In a few minutes, Dig turned the car into the large circular driveway of the LTE Building. As he stopped before the front doors, Larry suddenly said, "Make sure the Camaro is shined up and ready to go for tonight. I'm stepping out with David and Liz. We might get some pizza, maybe take in a movie."

"You got it, boss," Dig said, turning around to look at Larry. "And by the way, I know it's not my place to tell you how to run your life---"

"No, do it," Larry said desperately. "Tell me how to run my life. I need someone to tell me what to do. I don't seem able to figure it out on my own. What should I do?"

"I think you need to look deep inside yourself. Review the Journey. Where have you come from? How did you get here? What were the stops along the way? When you remember where you've come from, only then you will know where you're going."

Larry pat Dig's shoulder in thanks. "Also profound," he nodded. "By the way, who said that?"

Mr. Dig grinned suddenly. "Me! I just did!" Then he laughed hysterically before getting out to open the car door for his gazillionaire boss.

-

The rest of the day passed in the usual blur for Larry Tudgeman, the celebrated Computer Software King. He took a meeting with the Creative Development Team, then a conference call with the Overseas Distributors, and then another meeting with his corporate lawyers.

At lunch he shmoozed with executives of Milton Bradley, who wanted to adopt his latest software for a rudimentary game, which Larry was currently calling Tomato Drop, into a palm pilot-type device for the pre-school crowd. Larry would only agree if twenty five per cent of the profits were donated to Save the Children. Milton Bradley said fifteen percent, Larry said twenty, and a deal was struck.

It was the first thing he felt good about all day.

After lunch, he went back to the office where his Executive Assistant Parker McKenzie provided him with multiple copies of multiple contracts that needed to be signed in triplicate. As he worked at his desk, she leaned over him, letting him smell her perfume, letting him look down the sharp V neck of her clingy dress, hoping at last to persuade him to abandon himself to her feminine charms.

Frankly, Parker's advances towards him sometimes became quite annoying, and it was only because she was such an excellent Assistant, and because he was not at all sexually attracted to her, that he kept her in his employ. Parker was one of those women he had spoken of earlier to Jo McGuire, the type who was only interested in his money. She was also interested in usurping Kate in the position of new Queen of his computer software empire.

"By the way," Parker cooed, when all the papers had been signed. "A little birdie told me it's your birthday. So Happy Birthday, Larry."

"Thank you, Ms. McKenzie," Larry said. "But, as I've requested before, would you please call me Mr. Tudgeman?"

"Oh, Larry!" Parker flirted. "There's no need to be so formal! We're old friends, aren't we?"

"Sure. But in a business setting such as this---"

"Well, how about we get out of this business setting, for just a little while? I'd love to buy you a drink after work, just to say 'Happy Birthday…_Mr. Tudgeman_.' What do you say?"

Larry smiled politely and answered, "I'd have to say no. But thank you so much anyway, Ms. McKenzie."

Parker pouted. "Oh, you're no fun."

"No. I guess I'm not," Larry said, and as he listened to his own words, he wondered when was the last time he had had fun, really had fun. His sense of melancholy deepened as he stared out the large glass window behind his desk, looking down on the city below.

"Well, then," Parker was saying behind him, "if you won't come to the party…Larry…perhaps I can bring the party to you…"

Larry spun around in his leather executive chair and was not at all surprised to see Parker dropping her dress. She had done this before. Today the slip she wore was red and lacy. Someday she wasn't going to be wearing a slip.

He really had to fire this girl.

Never missing a beat, Larry pushed a button on his phone intercom and instantly heard, "Yes, Mr. Tudgeman?"

"Audrey, is Dig down there?"

"Yes, he just walked in. Should I send him up?"

"Please do."

Parker stamped her foot. "You always do that!"

"Ms. McKenzie, how many times have I told you? I do not believe in sex without love."

"Well, maybe if you gave it a try…even once…you could come to love me…"

Larry stood up and began to walk towards the door. Parker got in his path. "Larry…Larry…" she pleaded, running her hands all over his blue shirt.

Gently, he pulled her off him. "Ms. McKenzie…please…"

"Well, if you don't love me," Parker demanded, "then who do you love? I know it's not that witch of a wife. She despises you, and you despise her. That's very clear to everyone who knows you. What's not clear is who it is that you do love. Huh, Larry? If not her, if not me, then who?"

"Put your clothes back on," Larry said. "Dig will be here any moment."

"Oh, Dig!" Parker exclaimed, stamping her foot again. "You're always hiding behind Dig! You're always hiding behind your work, behind your video games, behind anything you can find to hide behind! Who is Larry Tudgeman? Where is the real Larry Tudgeman? Do you even know anymore?"

"Good night, Ms. McKenzie!" Larry called as he went through the main doors of his suite, finding Dig in the hallway, walking towards him.

"Parker again?" Dig said, seeing his employer's expression of dismay.

They got on the elevator. "Yeah, Parker again," Larry confirmed. But he did not mention that it was more than Parker that was disturbing him at the moment. _Who is Larry Tudgeman? Where is the real Larry Tudgeman? _ He didn't have a clue.

And as Dig pressed the button to take them from the 36th floor to the first, Larry felt himself spiraling downwards into a pit of absolute confusion and despair. He looked at his shiny reflection on the highly polished metal doors of the elevator.

He looked into his brilliantly blue eyes and thought _Happy Birthday, Larry Tudgeman. Who the hell are you, anyway?_

_-_

_--_

_AN: Thru the wonders of the internet, I have been able to discover that the wonderful quote Dig recites to Larry about happiness being comprised of having something to do, someone to love and something to live for is attributed to Tom Bodett, author, humorist and radio personality, who is also the "voice" of the Motel 6 commercials. I didn't know this when I started the story, but I know it now, and wanted to rightly give credit where credit is due._


	3. The Haunting Past

_I said last time that I would address the McGuires as Servants issue a little more in Chapter 3, but this story keeps expanding, and I won't actually get to it until Chapter 4. Oh well._

_I just want to make a reference here, while I'm thinking about it. There is a great little movie called Romy and Michelle's High School Reunion, which I hope everybody has seen, and if you haven't go out and rent it immediately! There is a character in that movie, named Sandy Frink, played by the wonderful Alan Cumming, who was sort of an inspiration for my gazillionaire Tudge. I just felt compelled to mention that, since I love Alan Cumming AND I love Tudge._

_By the way, in case anyone is wondering, I own a button that says "I (heart) nerds." _

_-_

_- _

When Larry arrived home at his mansion early that evening, he found a Fed Ex package waiting for him in the foyer. Opening the outer box he found another box, covered in birthday wrap depicting Charlie Brown and Snoopy.

Larry smiled. This could only be his mother. Sure enough, the enclose birthday card was signed in his mother's familiar hand, "Love, Mom and Dad" and contained a postscript: _"What do you get the man who has everything?"_

Larry took the package into the Great Room and opened it further, revealing a Nintendo 64, circa 1996, complete with Super Mario World and Tetris games.

"Way to go, Dad!" he laughed.

He pulled the console from the box and easily hooked it into the widescreen TV. In a few minutes, he was playing the video games of his childhood. In a strange way, this felt like an answer to his troubled question in the elevator: W_ho the hell are you?_ This was the real Larry Tudgeman. He felt better than he had all day.

After about a half hour, he stopped to call his folks and thank them for the gift. "Dad," he said, "only you could have thought of this."

"And only your mother could have found it!" Dad revealed. "Her web shopping skills are amazing!"

"I'm so glad you like it, dear," said Mom on the other side of their three-way conversation. "Do you remember when you used to play those games as a boy?"

"Of course I remember!" Larry laughed. "I was in first grade, I think, when I started playing video games."

"Yes, you were. And that little friend used to come over and play with you all the time," Mom went on. "And sometimes she would actually beat you. And that made you so mad."

"What little friend?" Larry wondered.

"That little Hispanic girl. The one with the beautiful big brown eyes. The one who used to come over years later also, when you were both in high school. Still playing video games together. What was her name? Melissa?"

Larry felt his world stop for a moment. "Miranda," he said. He hadn't spoken her name in nearly ten years.

"Oh yes, Miranda!" Dad remembered. "She was a sweetheart, wasn't she, son?"

Larry held the phone to his ear and said, "Yes, she was."

"What ever happened to her?" Mom wondered.

"Don't know," Larry said, truthfully.

"Too bad," Dad said. "I always liked her."

A few moments later, after sharing the rest of the family news, Larry hung up the phone, feeling quite strange as slowly his world began to revolve again.

Miranda. He honestly hadn't thought of her in years. He honestly had no idea where she might be. How strange to suddenly be remembering her now, after all this time…

-

"_Larry, look who's here," Mom said, standing in the doorway of the family room._

_Sixteen year old Larry looked up from the TV screen. "Hey! Randa!" he smiled._

_Miranda Sanchez plopped herself down in the overstuffed chair. "Hey, Tudge…"_

"_Can I get you anything, dear?" Mrs. Tudgeman asked._

"_Oh, no thanks, Mrs. T. I'm fine."_

"_Well, then, I'll leave you two alone to your video games…"_

"_Hey, Randa," Larry said, pausing his game. "You've got to see this! It's the newest thing for X-Box, it's called Halo and what you do is---"_

_He stopped suddenly, noticing a wateriness in Miranda's beautiful big brown eyes. "Hey, Randa," he said, now more quietly. "What's going on?"_

"_It's Jonathan," she sniffed._

"_Which one is Jonathan?" Larry asked._

"_My boyfriend!" Miranda exclaimed. "He's my boyfriend, you bozo!"_

"_Which one?"_

_She reached out and smacked him. "What do you mean 'Which one?' The one I've been dating these last two months!"_

"_I can't keep track of all your boyfriends," Larry said. _

_This was not true. He kept perfect track of every boy Miranda went out with. First there had been Warren. Then Thomas, then Eddie, then Michael, and now Jonathan. In only two years of high school, Miranda had made her way through a long list of boyfriends…which, incidentally, did not include him._

_Larry sighed. "What about Jonathan?" he asked._

"_Well, he's not my boyfriend anymore!" _

_With this proclamation, Miranda began to unload a tale of sorrow, deceit, and misplaced affections to rival any soap opera storyline seen on daytime TV. Larry turned to listen to her, taking in every word, nodding, "uh-hu"ing, and validating her feelings, though all the time never revealing his own. _

_When at last she was done, Miranda wiped her eyes, laughed lightly at herself and apologized profusely._

_Larry said, "De nada, senorita. That's what friends are for."_

"_And you are a friend," Miranda said gratefully. "You are such a good friend. No matter how many times I come to you with a tale of woe, you are there to listen to me. Tudge, I don't know what I would do without you."_

_Larry looked at Miranda for a long moment, wondering if he dare to speak what was really on his heart. Oh, he couldn't bear it if she should utter any of those dreaded phrases…_

_Just a friend…like a brother…no chemistry…_

_Larry sighed heartily and picked himself up off the couch. "Randa," he announced. "I know what you need."_

"_What do I need?" Miranda wondered, ready to take any advice from her friend, who was so smart._

"_You need potato chips. With dip. And ice cream."_

"_Chocolate chip ice cream?" Miranda asked, hopefully._

"_The only kind my mom buys," Larry smiled._

_The went into the kitchen and prepared their snacks, then carried all the bowls back into the family room, setting up the coffee table as a smorgasbord of delectable treats. Miranda kicked off her shoes and joined Larry on the couch. _

_As they snacked, he showed her the new game, Halo, and within minutes she had picked it up and was keeping pace, having happily forgotten all about Jonathan. By the time Larry walked her home, shortly after midnight, she was an expert, having actually beaten him at one game._

"_Ha ha! I beat you!" she laughed. "How are you ever going to be the Video Game King if you let yourself get beaten by a girl?"_

_Larry didn't mind that his dream of being the Video Game King was being challenged. At least Miranda was laughing again instead of crying…_

_- _

"Larry, look who's here," Mrs. McGuire said, standing in the doorway of the Great Room.

"Gordo! Liz!" Larry smiled, getting up to greet his friends. His shook David's hand, but kissed Lizzie lightly on the cheek.

"Ravishing, as always," Larry smiled.

Lizzie made a huffing noise and said, "Look at me, Tudge! No makeup, sweats, messy braids! Who are you trying to kid?"

"No matter," Tudge said. "Still ravishing."

"Hey, are you flirting with my wife?" David said, adjusting the brim of his baseball cap.

Larry looked at him and laughed. "What's with that getup?"

David Gordon had his long curly hair tucked up under a black baseball cap and was dressed head to foot in baggy black clothes. "I'm going to blend into the night," he grinned. "And Liz doesn't look anything at all like an Academy Award winning actress, does she? Do you think we'll be able to sneak around incognito tonight?"

"I'm counting on it," Larry said.

"Lizzie," Mrs. McGuire said, taking her daughter by the arm. "Come out back and say hello to your dad. It's been a while since he's seen you."

"Oh, I know, Mom! I've been so busy…"

As the womenfolk disappeared into the next room, David noticed the TV screen and said, "Hey, Tudge, what am I looking at?"

Larry excitedly began to explain his latest birthday gift, and in another moment the two men were sitting down battling Bowser and his army of Koopas in a desperate attempt to save the Princess.

"Oh man!" David exclaimed, when he lost his third life before Larry had even lost one. "This brings you back, doesn't it?"

"Right back to seven years old," Larry agreed, then unexpectedly asked, "Hey, Gordo, do you remember Miranda Sanchez?"

"Of course I remember her. She was best friends with Lizzie and me for years and years. Why do you ask?"

"Any idea what she's up to these days?"

"Lizzie's kept in touch with her better than I have over the years," David said. "Though I think the last time she heard from Miranda was about four years ago, and I think she was in Mexico somewhere. She's more or less dropped out of conventional society. Living in an artists' commune or something like that. Not really sure. You'd have to ask Liz."

Before either could say any more about the matter, Kate walked in with Ethan. There were polite hellos all around, then Kate said she was going upstairs to get changed for the Gala.

"What Gala?" David asked Larry, sounding disappointed. "I thought we were going to the movies tonight."

"It's the Gala Golf Charity Ball," Ethan explained. "Larry was invited, but refused to go, so I'll be escorting Ms. Sanders-Tudgeman. Hey, is this Mario? Cool! Can I play?"

"Sure," Larry said, handing over the controller. "Why not?"

Guys like Ethan could fight for the Princess, they could even fight and win the attention of puffed up airheads like his own wife, Kate. But as Larry sat there now, absently watching Ethan Craft, he recalled that despite the crazy crushes Lizzie and Miranda had had on this pretty boy in middle school, by the time Ethan had decided, as a highs school senior, that he wanted to go out with Miranda, she was already too smart for him and not at all interested.

Of course, she had never been interested in Larry at all, at least not as anything more than a friend. But it made him feel good now to recall that he was not the only boy who was unable to secure the elusive affection of Miranda Sanchez.

With a hearty birthday sigh, Larry wondered what might happen should they ever meet again.


	4. Rosebud Revealed

_A short chapter. I love that you all are "nit-picking"! It shows that you are thinking as you are reading, and actually coming up with some very good points, which I am trying to address in future chapters. I think it is difficult to make this story seem realistic because they all find themselves in such outrageous situations. (Gazzillonaire, Academy Award Winning actress, artist on a commune, etc.) It's a lot harder to make everything gel when we're no longer within the safe confines of Hillridge. A Writer's Challenge! I'm enjoying this so much._

_-_

_- _

Later that evening, Larry sat with David and Liz in a dark restaurant booth, blissfully unhampered by media attention.

"So," Lizzie said. "How are my mom and dad treating you?"

"Oh, they're great!" Larry said. "I'm so glad they wanted to work for me."

"Well, they wanted to keep working," Lizzie said, "Even though they don't have to. It makes them feel useful in their old age, like they're providing a valuable service."

"They are!" Larry exclaimed. "I don't know what I'd do without them. My last housekeeper….brrrr! But your mom is like a second mom to me."

"That's my mom," Lizzie agreed. "She always needs someone to take care of. She loves running your house, you know. It's even more of a challenge, she says, than running the McGuire house when me and Matt were little. And I think she secretly enjoys your opulence."

"Opulence?" her husband questioned with a silly grin.

"Ninth grade vocabulary word!" Lizzie explained. "It means---"

"I know what it means," David said. "And we certainly know that Tudge here knows what it means," he added.

"Opulence, Shmopulence," Larry scoffed. "The great thing is that even though my folks can't be here with me, your folks are giving a nice sense of stability to my life. Every now and then I start to feel a little too big for my britches, but then I take a walk in my garden, through Sam McGuire's 'Gnome Paradise,' and it makes me remember my roots in Hillridge."

"Hillridge was so long ago," David said. "Sometimes it feels like a dream, or like a movie. A movie with subtitles. Doesn't it?"

Larry sat back, sighing. "Sometimes it does feel like that, " he admitted. "Not like a movie. That's your imagery, Mr. Steven Spielberg Jr. It feels like a dream. Some of the memories…of some of the people…it feels just like a dream…"

Lizzie and David looked at each other as they saw their friend slipping into a dream. Lizzie smiled slowly and said, "Lar…who you dreamin' about right now?"

"Oh…nobody," he said, snapping back to reality.

"Larry….Tudgeman…"

"Oh! All right! I guess maybe I'm thinking about Miranda Sanchez. You remember her?"

"Larry! Of course I remember Miranda! How could I ever forget? She was my best friend for years and years, until she went away to college. But why would you be thinking of her?"

"I guess you didn't know," Larry said, "but Miranda and I…had a special relationship."

"Larry!"

"No, nothing bad. Nothing weird," he clarified, hearing the alarm in her voice. "We were just friends. Video game partners. She used to come over my house a lot and we would play video games."

"I know Miranda liked the games," David said. "I would play with her sometimes, but she always easily beat the crap out of me. I guess I wasn't much of a challenge."

"Yeah, well I was a challenge," Larry said. "I really gave her a run for her money. She beat me every now and then, but mostly I was the King."

Lizzie laughed. "Coming from anyone else I would consider that bragging," she observed. "But I had no idea…"

"Yeah, I guessed not," Larry said. "I don't think she told anyone, really. I think she was still kind of caught up in that popularity thing, right up through high school, though not as bad as she had it in middle school. I guess I was kind of an embarrassment to her. I mean, she would say hi when she saw me in the hall, but that was about it. But then on a Friday or a Saturday night, if she didn't have a date, she would show up at my door, and we would play video games till one or two in the morning sometimes."

"Larry, you're kidding!" Lizzie exclaimed. "I never knew any of this. So Miranda had a secret life?"

Larry gave a self-depreciating chuckle. "Some secret life! Playing video games with a computer nerd."

"Gordo! Don't you think that's weird? A little bit funny?"

"Not at all," Gordo said, adjusting his hair under his baseball cap. "I pretty much knew about this already."

"How did you know?"

"Larry told me. Years ago."

"Miranda never told me!" Lizzie pouted.

"Well, it's like I said," Larry reminded. "I think she was embarrassed by me."

Lizzie looked at Larry sadly. The poor guy! "Did you like her much?" Lizzie asked perceptively. "Did you have a crush on her?"

Even on this, his 30th birthday, almost fifteen years after the fact, Larry found himself blushing at the question.

"Oh, Larry!" Lizzie said, completely understanding. "Why didn't you ever say anything to her?"

"How could I?" Larry insisted. "I told you! This is the third time I'm saying it now: she was embarrassed by me. She would have never gone out with me."

"I bet she would now," Lizzie said encouragingly.

"Sure," Larry said, making a face. "Everybody wants a piece of me now."

"Miranda wouldn't be like that," Lizzie said. "She's very much changed, you know. She's not into popularity now. And she's not into money."

"Unlike you," David teased, earning a slap on the shoulder from his movie star wife.

"She sort of…dropped out of society," Lizzie exclaimed. "Last I heard she was living in an artists' commune in Mexico somewhere. She paints, she sings, she grows her own vegetables."

"An earth mother? A hippie?" Larry questioned with a smile.

"Not at all impressed by material possessions," Lizzie confirmed.

"Which is why I think the two of you lost touch after a while," Gordo said. "Nothing in common anymore."

He got another slap on the shoulder. "That's not true!" Lizzie exclaimed. "Miranda and I would have plenty to talk about. If I could find her."

"Why can't you find her?" Larry wondered.

"Oh, I had her address…a long time ago. But I lost it. And living on an artists' commune, all naturey and stuff, she doesn't even have a telephone, never mind an email address."

"So no idea where she is?"

"In Mexico, that's all I know."

"That's probably enough," Gordo suggested. "How many artists' communes can there be in Mexico? I bet a private eye could find her. Hey! I bet Matt could find her!"

"Why would you want Matt to find her?" Larry asked, almost in alarm. "What would be the sense in that?"

"Tudge!" David said, enthusiastically. "You've got to find her! She's your Rosebud."

"My Rosebud?"

"You know. Like in the movie, Citizen Kane. You _do_ know the movie Citizen Kane? The classic film by Orson Welles. Citizen Kane?"

"I tried to watch it once," Larry said. "Boring as hell. But I remember hearing about the Rosebud reference. I think I may have seen it on the Simpsons or some such thing. Something important from your past that's been lost…"

"Is that Miranda?" Lizzie asked gently.

Larry sat back and sighed. "She's probably married, anyway," he reasoned. "At least I'm sure she's found herself some hippie- type guy with a long beard who spends all day in an old barn converted into an artist's studio, creating abstract scultures out of scrap metal and discarded kitchen appliances…"

"Or not," Gordo said forcefully, looking directly at his friend. "Dude! You at least have to find out!"

"Listen!" Lizzie said, suddenly enthused. "For your birthday, David and I were going to take you on a cruise to Alaska."

"Cool!" Larry exclaimed.

"And we still want to do that. But now, I think, we want to do something else too. Right, honey?" Lizzie asked.

David nodded. "If you don't hire Matt to go find Miranda, we're going to do it for you. Hell, I'd like to see Miranda again, anyway."

"Me, too," Lizzie said.

"Okay, okay," Larry agreed. "I get your point. But I don't want you to do this for me. I think I need to do this for myself, you know? Give me a day or two to think about it. And give me Matt's phone number, Liz. I'll call him."

"You promise?" Lizzie asked, taking a pen out of her purse and writing a phone number on a clean napkin.

"Yeah, I guess I've got to now," Larry said, "or you two will never let me hear the end of it, will you?"

Lizzie grinned as she passed the phone number to Larry. "Of course not," she said. "That's what friends are for."

-

_Coming up next, "Triple M Madness": Miranda, Matt and Mexico! _


	5. There's Something About Miranda

_In her last review, my new friend cka…made the comment "I am awed at how productive you are." That being noted, I though this might be an appropriate time to offer a more in- depth explanation of "Why I Write," and why I write so much. For anyone who might be interested, you may link my LJ through my FF Profile. Every writer has a story, and this one is mine._

_As for this chapter, it's short and sweet, and I implore green aura and JP to offer suggestions on my Spanish phrases. My apologies if I mangle your language! _

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Matt McGuire sat at the bar, sipping a Tequila Sunrise. He needed this drink. He has spent the last three days driving Larry Tudgeman's metallic blue Ferrari all over the dusty Mexican countryside, visiting hippie communes where women in long skirts baked their own bread and men with long beards whittled toys out of blocks of wood for dirty-faced, barefoot kids who would certainly prefer to be playing video games, if they knew any better.

It was hard to imagine Miranda Sanchez, his first crush, his first love, involved in such a counter-culture. What in the world had happened to his sister's fun-loving friend whose main concern had always been how to increase their popularity at school? That girl could spend hours on the phone, and now, it seemed, wherever she might be, it was at least fifty miles away from the nearest phone.

And so Matt had spent all this time driving. But at least there was now a good possibility he had finally found her. The hippie folks down the road at _La Familia Madre Tierra_ assured him that Miranda would be here at this tavern, singing and dancing on a Friday night, entertaining the locals, as well as a generous sprinkling of adventuresome tourists who dared to come off the tour bus into the heart of the Mexican desert.

Matt appeared to be one of those tourists, with his fancy car, his stylish American clothes, and his well- trimmed beard. He sat at the bar alone, stroking his beard, and thinking about Miranda. The last time he had seen her was the summer before he went into tenth grade at Hillridge High. Miranda was excitedly telling Lizzie about her new dorm room at the University of Texas. Lizzie was raving about the University of California, where she and Gordo would be attending classes together.

After that, Matt occasionally heard a report from Lizzie about how Miranda was doing---graduate studies in Sociology, a stint in the Peace Corp, a visit to relatives in Mexico, a decision to return to her roots and live off the land---but Matt never actually saw her again.

But now, apparently, he was about to.

And frankly, it made him a little nervous. Sure, he had agreed to this assignment to help out Lizzie's old friend Larry Tudgeman, and he had also agreed because it was impossible to refuse the hearty compensation Tudge offered for his services (including the unparalleled privilege of driving a Ferrari), but deep down Matt knew that on some level he was very curious to see for himself exactly what had become of Miranda Sanchez.

His first crush. His first love. It had been so silly. _He _had been so silly. But somehow, he had never forgotten her. He'd had lots of girlfriends since then, many who were easily forgotten, but all these years, Miranda continued to hold a special, quiet place in his depths of heart. Sometimes he wondered if she was the yardstick against which he measured all his potential new girlfriends. If so, his mother's wish for grandchildren was in big trouble.

Matt was 27 now, and hopelessly single….well, Melina was still trying to rope him in, but he wasn't about to let _that_ happen, no matter what kind of guilt trip his mother laid on him every time they spoke by phone. Marriage. Babies. Not for him! Not yet. He had a lot of living yet to do.

At the moment that living included downing a second Tequila Sunrise as he watched the Mariachi band on the small stage tuning their instruments.

Miranda singing. Miranda dancing. He had seen her on stage a few times when she and Lizzie had been in high school. True, Miranda couldn't act her way out of a paper bag (as, surprisingly, it turned out, his sister could) but that girl could belt out a tune, and there was something exotic about the way she moved her hips.

Matt smiled into his glass, remembering the way Miranda moved her hips. He hoped she hadn't aged well, didn't look good. Years ago, their three year ago difference had been insurmountable, but now, if she looked good, and if she was the least bit sweet to him, on top of this little crush that had been stowed away in the back of his heart all these years, it was going to be awfully hard not to---

It was a trap, he realized suddenly. He was walking into a trap! He panicked. This wasn't Tudgeman's idea at all, was it? His mother had conspired with her employer to devise this plan as a way to get her wayward son married off and producing grandchildren! A trap. A plot! He had to get out of here!

He stood up to leave, thinking "To hell with Tudgeman!" but before he could take a step, the chubby leader of the Mariachi band stepped up to the microphone, adjusted his huge straw hat, and announced, in about as much Spanish as Matt could recall from high school, "_Ahora! Presentamos a la muy bonita y talentosa_…lovely and fabulous… _Rosalita_!"

Matt did not know what "talentosa" meant, but he did know he had not heard anything that sounded like Miranda or Sanchez, so he sat down again, breathing a sigh of relief. Maybe the hippies had steered him incorrectly, despising his fancy automobile, or perhaps there had simply been a change in the entertainment lineup. At any rate, he once again felt safe.

But then she was there, on stage, black curls cascading down the full length of her back, her eyes shining, everything about her glowing. A pretty red rose was tucked into the right side of her hair. Her hips swayed as she came forward to the microphone, beating a tamborine in her hands, and crying "Ai ai ai ai ai ai ai!" to set the energy for the evening's performance.

Matt sat, mesmerized. Not only had she not aged badly, she had aged wonderfully. She appeared more beautiful that he ever remembered. Maybe it was the costume… a long, flowing skirt in bright, ethnic colors, and a simply white peasant shirt, pushed down to expose both shoulders. Maybe it was her voice…clear as a bell, and full of the joy of life. Most of all it was her smile, her demeanor, as she flirted with the audience, drawing them in with the sway of her hips, a wink of her eye.

She was sexy, but not too sexy, not strip-club sexy. This was the honest sexy that came from being absolutely contented with life, 100 per cent confident in yourself.

Matt was 100 per cent confident that he was in love.

Of course, even as he felt this way, he realized he was a bit drunk, so maybe he shouldn't jump to conclusions. For the moment, he knew he was well hidden in the shadows at the back of the bar, so he decided to sit back and enjoy the show.

Miranda sang song after song in the old Mariachi tradition. He understood enough Spanish to surmise that almost every song was a love song, and he felt himself falling deeper and deeper. His head was spinning. This was too good to be true.

Miranda sang for the delight of the crowd, working up hearty rounds of applause at the end of each song, until at last she thanked the crowd profusely in both English and Spanish, and stepped off the stage.

The band continued to play, the hefty mandolinist in the large straw hat taking over as vocalist. Miranda walked through the crowd, towards the bar, and Matt drew in a deep breath as he realized she was heading directly towards him.

The room was, in fact, quite dark, and smoky, so Miranda did not at first notice Matt sitting at the bar. Besides, it was her habit to not look too closely at anybody after she sang. Sometimes there were young men in the crowd-- -young, somewhat drunk men--- who too easily imagined themselves in love after seeing her performance. The smallest glance or smile on her part could be taken as a sign of encouragement, so she avoided contact as much as possible.

At the moment, all she could think of was something to soothe her tired throat.

"Rico!" she called to the bartender, rolling her "R" like a native.

Rico waved and produced a tall glass of bubbly water, topped with a slice of lime, placing the drink on the bar. Directly next to Matt.

Matt pulled back, as if it were a snake. Miranda got closer. Now she was next to him, grabbing her drink, chugging it down with an audible sigh of delight.

Matt kept looking at her. Even up close, she still looked good. She was so close he could almost touch her, but he didn't. And he didn't say anything. He couldn't say anything. He was still mesmerized.

As Miranda drank, she felt the stare of the young man sitting beside her. An American, no doubt, she decided, as she glanced at him quickly through the corner of her eye. Kind of cute, actually. She liked the beard, so trim and neat. Not like Gus' beard, scraggly down to the middle of his chest. Ugh! Gus!

But this guy was cute.

But she wasn't going to look at him again, not even through the corner of her eye. Young, cute, American…that spelled trouble. The last thing she needed at this point in her life was trouble.

Yet…somehow…she couldn't resist. Something told her to look again. Slowly, barely, she turned her head, glancing. There was something about this one, something different---

"Ppppwwwhh!" Suddenly Miranda was spitting out her club soda, splattering Matt's stylish American shirt.

"Oh my God!" she exclaimed dramatically, clutching the bar. "Oh my God! It's Matt McGuire!"

Matt looked at her and smiled, feeling all tingly inside.

"Oh my God," he nodded quietly, his grin growing till it nearly popped off his face. "Oh my God. It's Miranda Sanchez."


	6. More at the Bar

_Many thanks to brie who pointed out something I had not thought about---Miranda's love affair with the telephone! I've tried to work that into this chapter, I hope you like it!_

_One more chapter after this one. On we go..._

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Matt and Miranda stared at each other, closing the years between them in a matter of moments. Soon, Matt found himself self-consciously reaching up to the top of his head to smooth down his spiky porcupine hair, forgetting that his hair no longer spiked, forgetting that he was in fact a six foot tall muscular hunk with a well trimmed beard, not a beady-eyed kid forever getting in trouble.

Then, all at once, Miranda was beaming, laughing, falling into his arms for a huge hug, crying, "I can't believe it! I can't believe you're actually here, Matt McGuire! What the hell are you doing here, Matt McGuire?"

Matt laughed, hugging her back, but for the moment he was still speechless.

All around them were exclamations in Spanish and a few in English. Matt heard "Randi!" with a dramatically rolled "R." Then he heard, "Who is this? Who is your boyfriend? Randi! Randi! _Diganos!_ "

Miranda pulled back and took Matt's arm, looking at a small group of friends that had gathered around them. "This is Matt!" she exclaimed. "Matt McGuire! The one I told you about. My best friend's little brother, the little troublemaker. The one who…who came to our high school one day when he was still _un muchachito _and fooled everyone into thinking he was some big shot named Matt Bond."

There were some knowing "Ahh's!" from the group. "Matt Bond…Matt Bond…" they repeated in awe of his exploits.

"The one who opened up a club in his backyard," Miranda went on. "What was it called, Matt? Oh, that's right! Club Flamingo!"

Now there were laughs all around. "Club Flamingo!" they all said in unison, smiling at Matt.

Matt knew he was blushing. "Miranda…" he scolded. "Have you told everybody _everything?"_

"If you mean did I tell them that you had a terrible crush on me when you were eleven and gave me that big button and the shirt that said 'Matt and Miranda,' then yes---I did tell them! "

Now the laughter was louder than before and Rico the bartender actually slapped Matt on the back, giving a hearty approval in Spanish which left Matt more confused and embarrassed than before.

Miranda smiled at Matt, yet seeing how embarrassed he was, she finally sent her friends away with a flurry of Spanish words and a wave of her hands. Then she sat down next to Matt, took his hand, gazed in his eyes and said, "Oh my God, Matt! Look at you! You've turned out quite nicely, haven't you?"

"And you too," Matt said. "Miranda, you're beautiful."

"So are you! Look at the beard!" She reached up and stroked his beard, giving him a silly smile. "So grown up. Whodda thunk it? Little Matt McGuire all growed up and looking fine. So really. What the hell are you doing here anyway?"

Matt gazed at her, hesitating. This was the moment he was hired for, his job was now officially over. He had found Miranda. All he was required to do at this point was mention Larry Tudgeman's name and note her response. But he couldn't bring himself to do it. If there was any chance that Miranda felt for Tudge even a fraction of what Tudge so obviously felt for her, then he, Matt McGuire, was 100 per cent out of luck. He couldn't so completely cut himself out of the picture just yet. Maybe later. Maybe tomorrow. For the moment he said, "Oh, you know….vacation…"

They sat at the bar, talking, laughing, reminiscing, catching up on everything that had happened over the last twelve years. Rico brought Miranda another club soda with a twist of lime to replace the one that had unceremoniously ended up all over Matt's shirt, and he also brought Matt another Tequila Sunrise, even though he had not ordered one.

Miranda's friends stopped by now and then, anxious to get to know the famous Matt McGuire a little better. Miranda indulged their attention to some degree, but it was apparent that her greatest desire was to have Matt all to herself for the moment. Matt could sense this, and the undivided attention of her bright brown eyes and warm smile made him feel all the more tingly inside. His fourth Tequila Sunrise only served to increase the sensation.

They had been sitting at the bar for at least an hour, when their conversation was suddenly interrupted by the Mission Impossible Theme.

Miranda almost jumped out of her seat, grabbing his arm. "What was that?" she demanded.

"My phone," Matt said.

"You have a cell phone?"

"Sure."

"You do? You do? Well, aren't you going to answer it?"

Matt didn't want to answer it. He didn't want to talk to anyone but Miranda at the moment. Besides, he had a pretty good idea who it was. Since he had begun this assignment, every four hours on the dot Larry called him to check up on his progress. He was worse than an expectant father in the waiting room!

Matt did not want to talk to Larry right now, but Miranda, so easily falling back into her teenage ways, was clearly disturbed by the sound of an unanswered phone.

"Answer it! Answer it!" she demanded. "How can you have a phone and not answer it? Oh man, what I wouldn't give to have a phone! "

Matt laughed, unable to resist her. He pulled the phone out of his pocket, looked at the display and sighed. "Hello?" he answered.

"Matt! Larry here. Any progress?" His client's voice was the epitome of anxious anticipation.

Matt looked at Miranda. His head was spinning, his heart clearly beating to the rhythm of the Mariachi music that still played in the background.

"Oh…hey!" Matt said brightly. "Yeah…well…you know how it is. These things take time."

"Nothing yet then? Where are you?"

"Oh, everything's cool. Listen, I'll call you later, okay?

"Where are you, Matt? What's going on?"

"I'm at a bar, having a drink. The music is so loud I can barely hear you! I'll call you later, okay? Okay then? Right! Talk to you later. Bye!"

Miranda looked at Matt in absolute amazement. "Who was that?"

"Oh, a client," Matt answered breezily. He had told her he was a private investigator, conveniently leaving out the fact that he was currently on assignment.

"Very demanding!" Miranda quipped. "They don't let you have a moment's rest, do they?"

Matt shook his head sadly. "No, they don't," he lamented. "It's tough. I'm so much in demand."

He was trying to evoke Miranda's sympathy, to get her to coo "Poor baby!" and stroke his hand again, but already she had moved on to the next important issue.

"You have a cell phone!" she said excitedly.

"Yes, I do."

"And I'm sure your sister's phone number is in that cell phone."

"Yes, it is."

"Give me that cell phone."

"No, I won't."

"You won't?" Miranda demanded. "Why not? Give me your cell phone, Matt! I want to talk to Lizzie! I haven't talked to Lizzie in like…years! I have to talk to Lizzie! I have to talk to Gordo! Oh my God, Matt! I'm one phone call away from talking with Lizzie and Gordo!"

Miranda collected herself and continued, "I lost their number and address when I moved two years ago. I can't find it! I've looked everywhere! I've been kicking myself in the ass ever since! But now you're here, and you have a cell phone, so I can call and talk to them! I want to talk to them! I want to three-way them, like we used to do in Hillridge! Oh man, wouldn't they get a kick out of that, me calling them from out of the blue! I need your cell phone, Matt! Give it to me! Give it to me!"

Miranda had worked herself into a frenzy, standing up, jumping up, reaching for Matt's cell phone, trying to grab it as he held it away from her. She was all over him, pushing him back against the bar, and he was enjoying this so much.

"Calm down, _senorita!" _ Matt laughed

"Give me that phone!" Miranda demanded, leaning into him. "Can't you see I'm in withdrawals? Why are you being so mean?"

"I'm not being mean," Matt defended himself. "I'll give you the phone. Eventually. But right now…for just now….I want to have you all to myself. Is there anything wrong with that? Can you blame me?"

"Oh…Oh…" Miranda pouted, well understanding his point. If she got on the phone right now with Lizzie and Gordo, she knew even better than Matt did that it would be dawn before her ear came free again.

What she didn't know was that Matt was afraid that if she started talking to Lizzie and Gordo, Tudgeman's name would surely come up, and then Matt's chances with the beautiful Miranda could be instantly obliterated. He was trying to hold off that moment as long as possible.

Miranda sat back dejectedly, frowning at her companion.

"Now, now," Matt comforted. "Don't look that way. I promise I'll let you talk to Lizzie and Gordo. But maybe….tomorrow. Okay?"

"Tomorrow?"

Matt nodded. "Because tonight," he said. "I want you all to myself. And besides, you can't dance with me if you're talking on the phone."

"Are you asking me to dance?" Miranda grinned, her expression suddenly changing to one of amusment and delight.

"Sure," Matt said. "I think that's what I just said." Actually, he was more than a little bit drunk by this time and not entirely sure what he was saying.

"Okay," Miranda said, holding out her hand and leading him to the dance floor. "Let's dance, Mr. McGuire."

The music was softer now, almost mournful, meaning that a slow dance was in order. Matt easily fell against Miranda, and she put her arms around him, more to hold him up that anything else.

Miranda laughed lightly. "Are you, perhaps, a bit drunk, boy?"

"Don't blame me," Matt said, pressing his face against her, distinctly smelling the sweetness of the rose in her hair. "It's your friend Rico the bartender," he said, rolling his "R" like a native. "That guy doesn't know when to quit."

"Rico's a good guy," Miranda agreed. "Very accommodating. He'll do anything for a friend. Or a friend of a friend."

"And Rico is your friend?" Matt questioned.

"I have a lot of friends," Miranda said. "This is a very friendly place, in case you haven't noticed."

"I noticed," Matt said, as they swayed lightly to the music. "What I haven't noticed is whether or not there is anyone here…who is more than a friend."

"A special someone?" Miranda grinned at him.

He grinned back. "If you will…"

"Why do you want to know?" she wondered, still grinning.

Matt put his head back down against hers, enjoying the feel of her body against his. He took a deep breath, then said, "You know, Miranda…you were my first crush. My first love."

She rubbed her hand against his back, saying softly, "I know."

"It was silly…but I never forgot you. You don't so easily forget your first love."

Miranda closed her eyes and sighed. After a long moment she said, very quietly, "No, you don't, do you? At least…not so easily."

They danced for a little while, their words hanging meaningfully in the air. Matt's mind wasn't working at full capacity, but after a short time it caught up, and finally he said, "And who was that?"

"Who was what?" Miranda asked, coming out of her own thoughts.

"Your first love. Obviously you're thinking about him. Who was he?"

Miranda smiled sadly.

"Come on," Matt encouraged.

"No, it's silly," she dismissed.

"Sillier than me as an eleven year old boy crushing on my teenage sister's best friend?" Matt wondered.

Miranda looked away.

"Randa…" Matt said slowly. "You don't mean…it couldn't be…?"

She looked up at him suddenly, realizing what he must be thinking, and laughed a little. "No, Matt," she said softly, kindly. "It wasn't you."

Matt sighed. "Oh well…" He was disappointed, but not too badly. It had been a longshot at best. He would get over it.

"Then who?" he asked. "Come on, tell me. At least tell me this. Have you ever been married? Have you ever come close?"

"You remember the artist guy I was just telling you about? Gus?"

"The one that makes sculptures out of discarded kitchen appliances? The one with the long scraggly beard?"

"I almost married him," Miranda revealed. "We were together close to two years. It was getting serious, but then we had an argument, a stupid argument. I said I agreed with Pablo Picasso who said 'Art is a lie that makes us realize the truth.' Gus strongly disagreed and took it as a personal insult that I thought what he was doing was a _lie._ No matter how hard I tried to explain my position, he took offense. It all went downhill from there."

"Miranda," Matt said dryly, "people do not break up over art."

"Gus does," Miranda smirked.

"Were you heartbroken?"

Miranda shrugged. "For a while. I couldn't live with him anymore. That's why I moved here, to _La Familia Madre Tierra_. That was a couple of years ago. But I'm over him now."

"So…you lost your soulmate…"

Miranda rolled her eyes. "Gus was not my soulmate."

"Then who?" Matt wondered. "If not me…if not Gus…then who?"

Miranda danced, a faraway look in her eyes. Matt tried to focus. This was an important question, he needed to know the answer. He was drunk and he was tired, but he had to remain alert and on his feet at least long enough to hear her answer.

"Miranda…" he encouraged quietly.

She sighed and looked at him. "Oh, all right," she said at last. "You're so drunk you probably won't remember in the morning anyway, and it might do me good to talk about this. Because it's been bothering me these last few days. I've been thinking about him these last few days. I don't know why. Cosmic disturbance in the Force? "

"Who?" Matt asked. "Who have you been thinking about?"

"Larry," Miranda sighed. "Larry Tudgeman. Do you remember him?"

Matt hesitated. "Geeky kid who always wore the same shirt? Super smart at school and video games, but totally clueless when it came to chicks?"

Miranda laughed a little. "You remember him all right."

"Lizzie went out with him once, I think."

"That was a long, long time ago," Miranda remembered. "Larry told me about it, years later. He was ecstatic. He thought he was her boyfriend, but she broke up with him right away. She said they lacked…chemistry. It devastated him. He said after that his confidence with the opposite sex reached an all time low. And I guess he never got it back."

"Did you ever go out with him?" Matt asked.

"No," Miranda said sadly. "He never asked me. Due to that all-time low self confidence, I suppose."

"Would you…would you have liked him…to ask you…out?"

Miranda's expression seemed suddenly pained. "I don't know," she said with difficulty. "On the one hand, yes. I liked him so much. On the other hand, no. I was still so young, and so foolish, and all I could think about was…was…"

"Being popular?" Matt supplied.

Now Miranda looked more pained than before. "I was so stupid," she said. "Larry was the one, he had the stuff, the stuff that really counts, and I couldn't see it…or I wouldn't see it. My priorities were all out of whack."

"And now they're not?"

"Let's just say I've grown up. I don't give a crap anymore about being popular. I just want to be happy. And it's so hard for me to be truly happy when I think about how badly I treated Larry all those years ago. He was always there for me, and I was never there for him. I wish…I wish…"

"You wish you could apologize to him?" Matt tried, though he knew he had only a few more minutes before he slipped into unconsciousness.

"Well, _that_, of course," Miranda said. "But so much more. I wish I could see him again. I would apologize. But so much more. I would look him right in those deep blue eyes, and I would put my hand on the back of his neck and pull him close, and give him that kiss I always wanted to give him but never did. That kiss I think he always wanted to give to me, too…"

Matt was laughing, quietly, his shoulders shaking as he dropped his head to Miranda's shoulder, closing his eyes.

"Matt!" she exclaimed. "Matt McGuire! What is wrong with you?"

"Randa," he mumbled. "I'm so drunk…"

"I know," she said, holding him up. "Do you have a car? Where is it? Where are you staying? Oh, never mind. Come on. I'm taking you home with me."


	7. Guess What? I Found Her

_This is what I love about the interaction. Again, brie, you have given me food for thought with your latest review, and I realized that I had not fully explained Miranda's position as well as I should have, so I added a little more into this chapter. Hopefully it will now make more sense. Though, if it doesn't, always remember that sometimes in life there are things that simply do not make sense._

_When I expanded this chapter, it became unwieldy (too long!) so now I have split this into two chapters. So essentially I lied to all of you when I said there was only one more chapter to go. Sorry! There are now two more chapters to go, this one and the last one. _

_And yes, there is a lot of MM going on here, a lot more than I ever intended, but I'm having so much fun writing it, I can't seem to stop. But I promise when all is said and done this will be a beautiful Miranda/Tudge all the way!_

-

-

Matt McGuire woke up the next morning in a strange bed, the strong Mexican sun painfully glaring in his eyes. His mouth was dry, his head hurt, he felt awful. _Where am I? _he wondered. _What happened?_

"Good morning!" came a cheerful voice beside him, in response to his involuntary moan.

Matt jumped up, his eyes popping open. Oh my God! Miranda Sanchez! Sitting up in bed beside him, sipping a cup of tea, reading the newspaper. She was gorgeous, her long silky hair falling over her shoulders, her face wiped clean of last night's makeup, a few freckles clearly visible in the morning sunlight.

She smiled at him and he panicked.

"Miranda…" he choked out, barely finding his voice.

"Hey there, Sunshine! How you feeling this morning? Not too good, I would guess, huh? Wait here, I'll get something that will fix you right up."

Matt's eyes followed as she floated out of the room, wearing a long, pure white cotton dress. She looked like an angel. Slowly, Matt's mind began to travel backwards over the events of the previous evening. By the time Miranda returned with a large brown mug, he had more than a few questions. "Miranda---" he began.

But she sat down beside him on the bed and forced the cup into his hands. "Drink this first."

"What is it?"

"An herbal remedy. You don't need to know the particulars. All you need to know is that it works. Drink it down quickly, don't worry about the taste."

"Ugh!" Matt cried when she finally allowed him to take the cup away from his lips. "What the hell---!"

"Don't worry, it's over, " she said, "and now you'll be feeling more yourself before you know it."

"Miranda, where am I? And how did I get here?"

"You're in my room at _La Familia Madre Tierra. _I drove you here last night in your beautiful automobile, which was the most fun I've had in ages! I can't remember the last time I drove a car. And never one so luxurious. You must be doing quite well at your private eye business, Matt McGuire."

"Miranda, did we…did we…?"

"Did we what?" she asked with a lopsided grin, knowing what he was trying to ask, but not adverse to letting him suffer a while longer in his paranoia.

Matt reached down under the covers and his eyes got wide. "My pants…" he breathed.

"On the chair over there," Miranda grinned. "I took them off so you would be more comfortable."

"Did we…did we…?" he repeated.

Okay, Miranda thought, enough already. "No," she answered. "We did not."

Matt breathed a sigh of relief. "Oh good. Because I would have hated it if we did and I couldn't remember."

"You were too drunk, Matt, to do anything or remember anything. I hope this is not an indication of what your life is regularly like."

Matt lay back, beginning already to feel a little better. "No, it's not. Not regularly. It's just…you know…vacation…"

Yes, Matt realized, he was starting to feel better. That herbal remedy, whatever it was, was really doing the trick. He looked around the simple room that was bathed in the morning sunlight. No bright colors here, no lava lamps, no leopard skin phone. He looked at Miranda and asked, "Hey, Randa….how did this happen?"

"How did what happen?" she asked.

"You. In a place like this."

She sighed, understanding. "I know. It doesn't quite seem like me, does it? In a way it is…yet in a way it isn't. Things started changing for me in college. I was studying Sociology, in a very liberal environment. I made some new friends. I got some new ideas. Back then it was all about saving the world. After grad school I did a stint in the Peace Corp. That was an experience! On thing just kind of led to another, and somehow I found myself here."

"Are you happy?" Matt asked, as much for Tudgeman's sake as out of his own curiosity.

Miranda tilted her head. "Yeah," she said finally. "Mostly."

"And you never think about…coming back…?"

"Oh, I think about it, all right. Quite a bit lately, in fact."

"Well, then, maybe it's time for a change again?" Matt asked, now totally thinking about Tudgeman.

"Conditions would have to be right," Miranda allowed.

"And what would constitute the right conditions?" Matt wondered, unable to keep from grinning. "Let's say…a personal invitation from…_Larry Tudgeman_?"

Miranda's eyes got wide. "You remember that?"

"I see all…I hear all…I know all," Matt pronounced.

"I doubt it," Miranda said dryly. "I doubt you could so easily predict how Larry Tudgeman would react to seeing the likes of me again."

Matt bit his lip, restraining the impulse to spill the beans. It put him at a distinct advantage to be the All Seeing- All Hearing- All Knowing Matthew McGuire. He had an idea.

"You might be surprised," was as much as he was willing to say at the moment.

"You know, I sometimes think about looking him up," Miranda revealed, staring out the window. "But I always chicken out when I imagine him laughing in my face."

"Why do you think he would do that?"

"Well, I heard somewhere that he's kind of successful now, he's got a beautiful wife, a nice house, all that. He's got it made. That's why I imagine he would look at me scornfully and say, 'Baby, you had your chance and you blew it.' It would serve me right, wouldn't it?"

Miranda lay back on the bed, staring at the ceiling. She was putting herself into a funky mood. "So," she continued miserably, " it's terrible to imagine Larry saying those horrible things to me, but sometimes I think…maybe it's worse…not knowing. Maybe the best thing would be to have it over and done with and let this dream die a natural death already."

"I'm telling you," Matt said. "You might be surprised."

"I wonder if Lizzie and Gordo ever see him," Miranda thought suddenly, hopefully. "Maybe they could find out what his feelings might be about me. You think?"

"I don't know," Matt lied. "You'd have to ask them."

"And I can ask them, can't I? As soon as you let me use your phone!" Miranda remembered.

As if on cue, Matt's phone in his pants pocket across the room began to play its familiar tune: Mission Impossible.

"That's been happening all morning," Miranda said. "It's been all I could do to restrain myself from picking up. I looked at it once and saw Melina's name. I didn't think she'd appreciate hearing a girl answering your phone, so I let it go."

"You didn't look at it any more after that, did you?" Matt wondered.

"No, after that, I've let it ring. But now that you're awake you're going to keep your promise, aren't you? You're going to let me use your phone to call Lizzie? Right? Right, Matt McGuire?"

Matt looked at Miranda, anxiously imploring him, and he could not help but smile. "All right," he said. "I'll keep my promise. But first give me a moment to make a few business calls. Then my phone is yours until the battery dies."

-

Once again wearing his pants, Matt walked outside the back door of _La Familia Tierra Madre_ into the hot Mexican desert. The first person he called was his sister.

"Hey, McGuire," he teased, "you'll never guess who I ran into last night."

Lizzie was so excited she wanted to speak with Miranda immediately. Matt assured her they would have a lengthy phone conversation in just a little while, but first, he had this crazy idea he wanted to run by her…

Lizzie listened and agreed, then passed the plan on to Gordo, who was nearby, roughhousing their two Chihuahuas by the poolside. Matt heard Gordo say sure, he was on board, they could count on him.

"Alright then," Matt said. "Let me give Larry a call. I have like only a dozen messages from him on my phone. Do you think he'll be happy to hear from me?"

A few moments later Matt dialed the Tudgeman residence, hoping he would not get his mom on the phone. Even though he now fully understood how wrong he had been in his brief assumption that this trip to find Miranda had been his mother's attempt to see him married off, he did not want to get into that discussion with her at this particular moment.

At this particular moment, all he wanted to do was exactly what he did as soon as he heard Larry's expectant "Hello?"

"Hey, Boss!" Matt smiled. "Guess what? I found her."


	8. Happily Ever After

_I guess I'm gearing up for my NaNo project, which has a heavy element of the Hollywood Studio Musical about it, because that is what this last chapter of my Rosebud story feels like to me. And it's a wonderful feeling, by the way. I even borrow the song "The Man Who Got Away" which was written by Ira Gershwin and performed by Judy Garland in the 1954 classic movie "A Star Is Born." I don't own the song, and I should also mention, I don't own anything about Lizzie McGuire either, but then you all know that._

_Anyway, once again my thanks go out to all who_ _have reviewed and supported me in my latest endeavor. I especially love hearing from readers I have not heard from before! Oh yes! And thanks again to green aura for the help with the Spanish. I know I still haven't gotten it perfect, but with your help it's better than it would have been._

-

-

Mr. Dig piloted Larry Tudgeman's private airplane through a clear blue sky across the Mexican border. Lizzie and Gordo sat in the back, side by side, hand in hand, talking quietly as they glanced out the window, laughing occasionally at some private joke. Tudgeman paced the aisle, his cell phone to his ear.

"Okay, Lanny," he said. "I have a short list of things I need you to do. First, take the Monday meeting….no, I don't think I'll be back in time. I certainly hope I won't be back in time." He smiled wistfully, then went on, "And I also need you to make a statement to the press about Tomato Drop, that new kid game. See Parker, she has all the notes."

Larry listened a long moment then said, "No, Lanny, don't worry. She won't bite. I promise."

Larry listened once again, then finally said, "Okay, okay. One more thing. Get in touch with Veruca Randolph. Call Jo McGuire, Lizzie left the phone number with her….Yes, she's a divorce lawyer. Make an appointment for me, earliest possible opportunity. Yes, I'm giving Kate her walking papers."

Larry held the phone away from his ear as his trusted advisor loudly and heartily congratulated him on a good decision.

Larry smiled into the phone, almost laughed. "I know, I know," he agreed. "Thanks, Lanny. Thanks a lot."

Larry hung up the phone and sat down opposite Lizzie and Gordo. "That was Lanny," he explained in answer to a question they had not asked. "He reminded me that he's a mail-order minister and offered to perform the ceremony, should Miranda and I decide to get married."

Gordo rolled his eyes. "Tudgeman…" he smirked.

"Married?" Lizzie teased. "You're moving awfully fast, aren't you, Larry?"

"I don't know," he smiled, with a far off gaze. "I have a good feeling about this. A really good feeling. Tell me again what she said…."

"Which part?" Gordo asked in exasperation. "You're already asked us ten times to recount the entire phone conversation!"

"The part about me being Miranda's soulmate," Larry grinned dreamily.

Lizzie again recounted her brother's story. It exactly matched the report Matt has personally given Larry on the phone earlier that morning. All the planets were in alignment. Something good was bound to happen.

"And she really doesn't know…?" Larry said.

"Know what?" Lizzie asked.

"About me, about my money."

"She asked about you, almost right away. She said she had heard a few years back that you're some kind of businessman, in computers, maybe video game. Honestly, Larry, she didn't sound like she had the slightest clue how successful you are. And we didn't say anything except that we sometimes run into you."

"So you're certain," Larry said, "she has no idea I'm flying down with you?"

"None at all," Lizzie said. "It was Matt's idea to keep it a secret and he made me swear to strictly abide by the 'Cone of Silence.' I guess he feels it will be a lovely surprise for Miranda to have you show up unannounced."

"So she really has no idea…?"

"Not from me," Lizzie said, giving her husband a meaningful glance.

"What?" Gordo exclaimed. "I didn't say anything!"

"You almost did."

"So I'm not an Academy Award Winning Actress like you. So I had a little trouble disguising my enthusiasm. So sue me."

"It's okay, Larry. She doesn't know. She's going to be totally surprised."

Larry smiled at his friends, feeling their love for him, feeling the Love that permeated the universe.

_Totally surprised_. Nobody could possibly be more surprised than he had been when Matt McGuire called this morning and said "Guess what? I found her. And she's one hundred per cent bonkers for you." At this moment, he didn't need his private jet to feel that he was floating on air. But he did need this jet to get to Miranda as fast as he possibly could. Getting to Miranda was his only thought at this moment.  
-

An hour later the sun had set and Mr. Dig began a slow descent onto a small landing strip in the middle of the Mexican desert. Arrangements had been made for a rental car to be waiting. From there, it was only a short trip into town, to the local tavern where the beautiful _Rosalita_ would be performing her Mariachi tunes for the locals and a generous sprinkling of adventuresome tourists.

Larry Tudgeman sat in the co-pilots seat, watching the lights on the ground grow larger and brighter as they approached. "Almost there…" he whispered expectantly.

Mr. Dig looked across at him for a moment and grinned. "Patience, Boss," he said. "It's all part of the journey."

Larry looked at him and wondered, "Life's Journey?"

"No," Mr. Dig said. "It's in the flight plan." Then he laughed lightly and amended, "Well…sure….Life's Journey. That too, I guess."

-

On this Saturday night, the tavern was jam-packed. Mr. Dig drove the rental car around the dusty parking area in vain. "I've got to put her down in that field across the road," he announced. "No other choice. We'll have to walk in a little."

"Let me out first!" Lizzie exclaimed from the back seat. "Let me out now! Gordo, come on! Larry, come on! Do you hear that? Do you hear the music? That's Miranda! She's singing! I would know her voice anywhere. Come on! Come on!"

Lizzie was practically out of the car even before Mr. Dig stopped it. She dragged her husband by the hand, calling back into the vehicle, "Larry! Come on!"

But Larry was frozen to the spot. He also would know Miranda's voice anywhere, and hearing it now he suddenly realized this was happening, this was really happening. He was only moments away from his Rosebud. And he had instantly reverted to that shy, awkward boy he had once been, unable to make a move.

Mr. Dig looked at his employer and yelled out to Lizzie and Gordo, "You go ahead. We'll be there in a few minutes."

-

Lizzie and Gordo ran into the tavern, immediately overcome by the dark smokiness, the smell of booze, the clinking of glasses, smatterings of conversation in both English and Spanish. Yet none of this mattered, because straight ahead on the brightly lit stage, there stood Miranda, in her ethnic costume, her hair curled and cascading down her back, a red rosebud tucked behind her right ear, clicking her castanets and singing her heart out.

From the corner of the bar, Lizzie saw her brother give a big smile and a wave, then he pointed towards the stage, making a thumbs up.

Suddenly Miranda noticed her old friends Lizzie and Gordo. She gasped as she sang, smiling, waving, jumping up and down as she finished her song. And the moment she finished, she flew from the stage and into Lizzie's arms first, then Gordo's. They were all hugging and kissing, and the girls were crying, and Gordo was laughing.

And Matt sat across the room, watching them and grinning like grins were about to be outlawed and he had to use them up quick. _Damn! _he thought. _Sometimes I do things right, don't I?_

But where was Tudge?

-

Larry Tudgeman sat in the front passenger seat of the rental car, unable to move.

"I can't do this, Dig," he said in a small voice.

"Yes, you can," Mr. Dig informed him. "You are a self-made multi-millionaire, the King of your very own Software Empire, and just about the smartest guy I know. You are not going to let yourself be done in by a _girl. _I don't care how beautifully she sings."

"But what if…what if…" He couldn't bring himself to voice his deepest fears.

"Larry," Mr. Dig said plainly. "High school is over. It's been long over. Many many years now."

"Then why do I feel…?"

"Get up," Dig said, opening the car door. He came around to the other side and opened Larry's door. "Get up," he repeated. "Get up and get out. You're going in there and everything is going to be fine. I promise."

"Where do you get off bossing me around like that?" Larry said flatly, not looking at his friend. "I could fire you right now, you know."

"Go ahead, fire me," Dig smiled as he pulled Larry from the car. "Come on, buddy. One foot in front of the other. Everything is going to be fine."

-

Inside the tavern, Miranda had returned to the stage and was wiping tears from her eyes. "_Mis amigos Americanos,_" she explained for her regulars. "Lizzie and Gordo."

A knowing exclamation arose from the crowd. "Ahhh! _Lee-zee! Lee-zee! Y Gordo!"_ they added with dramatically rolled "R's."

There was a sprinkling of laughter as some of Miranda's friends noted Gordo's slender frame and repeated "_Gordo? Gordo?_" in disbelief, puffing their hands out in front of their stomachs to indicate the girth his nickname suggested but which he so obviously did not possess.

A table up front was cleared and Lizzie and Gordo were led to the place of honor. Rico the bartender deposited two gigantic Margaritas in front of them. Matt soon joined, bringing his club soda, with a twist of lime.

Miranda stood on the stage, gazing down at her three friends, looking as if she might start crying again, though she too was using up her supply of grins before they were outlawed.

"It is so…_so_…wonderful…" Miranda said at last, "to see my friends here like this…all together. Seeing them makes me so happy tonight. But even in my happiness…there is a stab of sorrow, a bit of pain. Because there is one friend…who is not here. One friend…who was, perhaps, more special, than all the rest put together. And I never told him. And I let him get away. And I've never forgiven myself for that."

Miranda took the microphone and walked to the middle of the stage. She paused a moment, collecting her thoughts, then went on.

"I've been thinking about him these last few days, and it's caused a sad…sad song to rise up in my heart. A sad song that his been hidden deep in my soul these last twelve years. And I know we've been having a good time here tonight, singing, dancing, partying, but right now I need to do something a little different. Guys" she said, looking back at her band. "Take five. I'm going _a cappella_, if you all don't mind, but I feel I need to do this. I need to get this out. I need to sing this one for The Man…The Man Who Got Away."

As Miranda said these last words, her voice cracked, and everyone in the place wondered how she was going to be able to get through this song. She gathered her wits, took a deep breath. There was absolute quiet. Even the clinking of glasses had stopped as she opened her mouth and began her mournful tune.

_The night is bitter  
the stars have lost their glitter  
the winds grow colder  
and suddenly you're older_  
_and all because of the man that got away_

Miranda's voice did indeed crack again, yet bravely she went on.

_No more his eager call  
the writings on the wall  
the dreams you've dreamed  
have all gone astray_

As Miranda continued to sing this old American classic, every ear was tuned into her sorrow. All the couples, including Gordo and Lizzie, hugged each other, and those who were alone wished fervently for a true love. Even Matt began to think wistfully of Melina.

And then, somewhere in the middle of all this, as Miranda drew in a deep breath for the next heartfelt lyric, the door of the tavern opened and two dark figures appeared, one behind the other, walking to the middle of the room. In fact, the one seemed to be gently guiding the other into the middle of the room.

Then they both stopped, and Dig fell back to the bar and Larry Tudgeman stood, surrounded on all sides, yet totally alone in the dead center of this crowded room, gazing up at the stage, at his beautiful Miranda, his elusive Rosebud.

Miranda had her face stretched up towards the ceiling as she belted out the final verse. Her eyes were closed tight, yet two tiny tears ran down her cheeks as she sang:

_The road gets rougher  
it's lonelier and tougher  
with hope you burn up  
tomorrow he might turn up  
there's just no letup  
the livelong night and day…_

_Ever since this world began  
There is nothing sadder than---_

Here Miranda opened her eyes, and as she did, for the first time she noticed the solitary figure in a deep blue shirt, his deep blue eyes gazing at her from halfway across the room. She drew in a deep breath, afraid to let herself believe she was seeing who she thought she was seeing. But then he smiled at her, and then she knew…

And she tried to be a trouper and finish the song. She actually got out the words:_  
_

_a one man woman  
looking for the man that---_

But she could not finish the song, because all at once she realized that her man had not got away, he was here now, in front of her, smiling at her, slowly stepping closer to her. Miranda put her hands to her face, gasping in a deep sob, but now her tears were not for sorrow, they were the tears of absolute joy, as once again she tried:

_…looking for the man---_

And then at last she gave up, and left the stage, calmly coming down the few steps, walking directly towards Larry, her arms rising up to greet him.

And when she reached him, she put her left hand behind his neck, and with her right hand she clutched his blue shirt and drew him in close to her, covering his mouth with the kiss she had always wanted to give him but never had.

The crowd went wild, hooting and hollering, chief hooter being Matt McGuire, followed closely by Lizzie and Gordo. Mr. Dig, at the bar, only grinned. There was so much noise and commotion, and then the Mariachi band struck up a new tune, and nobody heard Larry's little moan of surprise and surrender, save Miranda herself.

He alone heard her make the same noise, as they continued kissing passionately, alone with each other in the middle of this mayhem, two souls who had conquered years and miles and a lot of personal nonsense to finally…finally…get it right.


End file.
